


The Life and Lies of Tom Riddle

by starknight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Good Tom Riddle, POV Tom Riddle, Wool's Orphanage, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknight/pseuds/starknight
Summary: Tom Riddle was not destined for evil. He was not rotten at the core. He was, almost, a normal boy. But a savage upbringing and a fear of his mother's ultimate fate drove him to become a Great and Dark wizard. Witness, as Tom's willingness and hope fade and wane under pressure.NB: Not complete, never going to be updated (oops)





	The Life and Lies of Tom Riddle

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter!! (not complete yet sorry) I've been thinking about this idea for a while, and I just loved writing it for the first time.

Tom Marvolo Riddle had always known he was different. Odd, somehow. He had always known this because he had never had friends. Now, at age ten, was no different. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want any. It was just that they always seemed frightened of him. The other day, he had sat next to Amy Benson at dinner. She had given him a funny look, like everyone always did, and he’d tried to ignore it and said hello in his best polite voice. And she’d gotten up to leave him sitting there at the big table all by himself. He had felt very hot all over and the usual sensation boiled up in him. It wasn’t like any emotion he had ever felt before. It was like – like something else, like a power he couldn’t control. And sure enough, Amy had tripped and her face had fallen right into her boiling stew. Mrs Cole had shouted at him, drunken and spittle flying everywhere. She had spanked him hard with her belt. And when it was all done, Tom had crept upstairs miserably and tried to conceal his sobs into his pillow. Yet Amy had heard, he knew. As he cried, he wanted to never be weak again. He wanted to never be hit and never be shouted at. He didn’t want to be mocked either. So, the next day at breakfast, when Amy and Billy were whispering about him, he had taken deep breaths and smiled sweetly at them, promising revenge inwardly. Billy was scrubbing the tables with Tom – no one ever wanted to be rostered with him, but he had to pair up with _someone_ – when Tom asked what he had been talking about with Amy. He thought he had been nice about it. He had tried.

“Billy?” The older boy sighed.

“Yes, Tommy?” Tom shuddered inwardly but didn’t retaliate. Everyone knew he hated the name _Tommy_ … so naturally that was all they ever called him.

“What were you talking about with Amy today? Only, I noticed you glancing my way.” Tom glanced up at Billy and blinked his eyes hopefully, trying to exert some of his mysterious power.

“You wha’?” Billy puffed up angrily. “None o’ your business, tha’s what! Freak!” And he spat contemptuously over Tom’s side of the table and resumed scrubbing. Tom sighed, cleaning up Billy’s mess. After a while, he tried again.

“Billy?”

“ _What, Tommy boy?”_ Billy’s voice was exasperated and none too friendly. Tom gulped nervously. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time to bother him. But he had to say something! What – oh! And it came to Tom in a flash. He would be friendly and charming! If he got Billy on his side, surely he would know how to stop everyone laughing at him.

“I was only going to say that I can finish cleaning up. You go on and enjoy yourself. I don’t mind, I’m quick at this.” Tom smiled hopefully at Billy. It wasn’t his first attempt at a friendship. He had tried many times over the years to befriend those at the orphanage. Well, some of them. Some of them were too dim to light the fires of anyone’s heart, and Tom despised stupidity and ignorance above all. Billy was alright though. He was actually very nice, when it was someone that he cared about. He had a rabbit that he’d found when they went walking on the moor in summer. He’d taken it home and cared for it more tenderly than Ms Cole ever did the babies. The rabbit – Chester – lit something in Billy’s eyes that Tom had never seen before. Tom, apparently, did not reproduce the effect.

“Wha’ are you sayin’ tha’ for? You think you better at cleaning, that it?”

“No! No, I just…”

“Just what? You’re always up to somefink, aren’t you… Freak.” Billy narrowed his eyes, setting down his bucket of steaming hot water.

“I just wanted to give you a break, that’s all! I don’t have to be up to anything!” Even to his own ears, Tom sounded defensive. He sighed internally. This was not going well.

“LIAR!” roared Billy. Tom’s eyes pricked with tears and – _no, no, stop, please_ – the bucket of water somehow upended over Billy’s head without either of them moving it. Billy went quite still, removing the bucket and studying Tom quietly. Tom stood there shaking like a leaf. _I hate you,_ he thought miserably to whatever part of himself was doing this. _Why can’t you just leave me alone?_ If he was normal, he might have friends. Tom usually hated normal people, but that was only because he resented them so much. They had it easier than they ever knew.

“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you…” Billy circled round the table and neared closer to Tom, who leaned backwards over the table in an effort to get away. “I know you can do something the rest of us can’t. You’re a freak. It’s Dark, whatever it is. You must have the demon in you. But I’m not scared.” Billy pushed Tom’s chest, firmly so that Tom was forced into a half sitting half lying position against the table. He could smell Billy’s breath as the boy leaned over.

“There’s some people in this world who are wrong. Their minds are poisoned, see? No matter how much you pretend to want friends, we know you’re evil. There’s something wrong with you. Don’t even deny it. You know what I think’s wrong with you? I think –“ But Tom never found out what Billy thought was wrong with him. Billy had made to pin his shoulders down and leaped back as though burned. His hands were red with welts all over. He yelled in pain and shot a look of pure hatred at Tom, running from the room towards Ms Cole’s office. Tom lay on the table, hating himself. He would never make friends. Who was he fooling really?

As he lay in bed that night, he heard himself crying from the residual pain of Mrs Cole’s belt. He listened to the other children laughing, though it didn’t affect him. The real Tom was sitting in his brain, not crying, not feeling ashamed, but thinking hard. _My body is only a shell_ , he had realized. A shell for Tom’s brain to sit in and control. He had utter control of his own thoughts, and that was the main thing. He couldn’t trust his body not to betray him. It kept on doing that thing – or perhaps that was his mind? He recoiled at the thought. It _couldn’t_ be his mind making all those horrible things happen. Perhaps Billy was right, and Tom was possessed by a demon. But he didn’t hear voices, apart from the constant monologue of self-criticism that took on the attitude of everyone at the orphanage. That, he was fairly sure, was his own doing. _Control your mind, Tom. It’s very important that you control yourself._ He couldn’t afford to go around offending all the older children by accident. And some of the things that he made happen were quite dangerous. But he must have some measure of control over them, because they only happened to people he was angry at, or when he felt threatened. Yet they would never happen to Mrs Cole. His subconscious, it appeared, wasn’t as stupid as all that. But what even _was_ it? What on earth kept happening to him? It was like – like the world sometimes broke to let Tom punish people who were mean to him. It shouldn’t be possible, he knew that. It was like he had… _superpowers._ It was just like that book _Gladiator_! Tom loved reading. It let him escape to a world where he was the special, chosen one, but in a good way. In those worlds, people always stood up to others who were mean to them, and won battles. But his powers were just like those in the books! Tom’s shell stopped crying. His heart started to beat faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He almost expected to start breathing fire, or – something! He felt ecstatic. He _was_ special, of course he was, his powers were a _gift_ not a curse and he could use them! _Take control, Tom._ He couldn’t sleep now. He had to get somewhere he could experiment. This was far too exciting to leave for long! He was lying in bed, about to sneak out the window with his _super stealth_ , when Tom Riddle fell fast asleep.


End file.
